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RIP to the Empire State Flea Market
Frog
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Port Chester past I-95, take a right into the parking lot
Down the stairs past the Mariachi records you bought and then forgot
Who would play you in a movie, maybe Julia Stiles
'Cause you got a foreign lover winking at the bottom of your smile
Tell you what I'll do
I'ma wait out here for you
'Til the cars begin to move
And the sun dries all the dew
Search through all the bars and the nice gentlemen's cars
Smile and then you're gone
You don't get what you want
Can't figure the mathematics of your thighs in the fuck'em dress
Pat Swayze on them bitches like it's 4AM and I'm depressed
Who would play you in a movie, maybe Maggie Gyll'
Irish immigrants stare out at the water, sad and mute and still
One day when you're gone
I'ma wait out on your lawn
'Til the street lamps all turn on
And the dog walkers are gone
Black out on the moon
Black out in your room
You don't get what you want
You don't get what you want
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